Bloody Gryffindors
by lau85
Summary: Draco and Ginny get caught in a tight situation and it turns out differently than either of them had planned. Draco/Ginny


Disclaimer: characters are not mine.

Thanks to my amazing beta, dragonfly123.

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Bloody Gryffindors

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'Bloody Gryffindors,' Draco grumbled to himself. No, bloody _Weasley,_ more like. Bloody Weasley and her bloody good Quidditch skills. He had been shocked to discover her abilities, now that bloody Potter wasn't on the bloody team anymore.

His hatred for the red-headed Seeker burned under his skin as he reminded himself of what had set him off in the first place. Things had been going amazingly well – Gryffindor had been down by sixty points, and the light drizzle had turned the world gray and effectively hidden the Snitch. Slytherin had been prepared to play all night, thanks to the energy potion one of the annoyingly eager (but also annoyingly brilliant) third-yearshad concocted for the team. Yes, the game was going exactly as planned, until bloody Weasley had suddenly spotted the Snitch. Sheer bloody luck was what that had been, nothing more. _He_ should have been the successful Seeker, and then Slytherin would have won and Gryffindor would have been out of the running for the bloody Cup.

But no, bloody Weasley had to blast all his carefully constructed plans to hell by catching the bloody Snitch before he'd even laid eyes on it, thus branding him a loser. Draco Malfoy had _lost_. To a _Weasley_.

"Argh!" he yelled, not caring who heard him. He slammed a fist into the stone wall, then cursed as he felt the bones break. What a fucking horrible night it had turned out to be.

Suddenly, Draco became aware of another presence in the hallway. He bit his lips to keep quiet and darted behind a suit of armor. He still felt horribly conspicuous – he was still wearing his Quidditch kit, after all, and he'd just broken his bloody hand.

Draco peeked around the suit of armor to see if he could determine who was coming down the hall this late at night. It was after hours, so they'd have to be a bloody fool to risk getting caught by Filch and his sodding cat.

He heard the voice before he saw the person. She was singing something softly under her breath, but the sound bounced off the stone walls and echoed down the hall in front of her. The song was so ethereal that it almost took his breath away. He watched eagerly as the person slowly approached, wondering who the voice belonged to. Hoping it was some gorgeous Slytherin he had failed to notice, he strained to see her.

The casual stroll of the girl in question led her through the moonlight for a second, and Draco felt the anger boil within him in an instant.

It was Ginny bloody Weasley. Prancing down the hall in a nightshirt, presumably one that had belonged to one of her five thousand brothers. She had obviously showered since the game, as her hair hung down her back in a wet, tangled mess. Draco sneered and decided to put her in her place.

"Weasley," he drawled, calmly stepping out from his hiding place. To his immense satisfaction, she gasped in terror and jumped a foot in the air.

"Malfoy!" she snapped, a hand on her heart. "Malfoy, you great prat, what the bloody hell are you doing?"

"Temper, temper, little Weasel," Draco taunted, sauntering towards her. "Must we wash your mouth out with soap?"

Ginny put her hands on her hips and glared at him. "Get out of my way, Malfoy."

He chuckled. "Somewhere you need to be, Weasley? Must I remind you that it is after hours and I am a prefect? You, as you may recall, are not, and thus I am the person in power here. I can take away so many Points that you won't know what hit you."

"If you don't move, Malfoy," Ginny growled, "_you_ won't know what hit you." Her hands fell off her hips and she balled them into fists.

The intensity rolling off her made him jolt for a second, but he recovered swiftly and sneered all the more. "Are you saying," he said, leaning over her and exaggerating their significant height difference, "that I should be afraid of a tiny little girl?" Draco chuckled. "I'm shaking in my boots, Weasley."

Ginny narrowed her eyes at him and clenched her jaw. "Get out of my way, Malfoy," she warned. Draco chuckled and drew his wand from the folds of his pocket. He winced in pain and he made the unfortunate discovery that his wand hand was also his punching hand, and the movement of bringing the wand up had caused more pain than he'd care to admit.

As it turned out, he didn't have to admit it, because Ginny was more observant than most people would think. "What the bloody hell did you do to your hand?" she asked, frowning at the swollen, bloody appendage.

"None of your business," Draco snapped, shoving it under his robes. This action crunched the broken bones together and he howled and doubled over in pain before he could stop himself. Cursing himself for the moment of weakness, Draco stood up straight and bit the inside of his cheek until his eyes watered, but it kept away the whimper that lay on the edge of his tongue.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Oh, for heaven's sake, you git, let me fix you." She whipped out her wand from a mysterious pocket of her night shirt, and whispered a healing spell before Draco could defend himself. He was about to hex her into next week until he felt a slight warming sensation creep over his hand, and suddenly the pain was gone.

The little Weasel had healed him. He stared at her in shock, and she looked back at him uncomfortably, as if she couldn't believe she'd just healed her enemy and she wasn't quite sure if she should run away or not.

Draco opened his mouth to make some sort of sound, when he heard a low growl-hiss coming from down the hall, followed by the appearance of a lantern light.

"Mrs. Norris," Ginny whispered in horror.

"Filch," Draco hissed, and before he had a chance to think about what he was doing, he grabbed the red-head and pulled her against him into the shadows, tucked behind a suit of armor. "Sh," he warned, and she nodded silently. _At least the bloody thing can follow directions_, he thought angrily. What had she been doing, healing him like that? He was a Malfoy, and Malfoys most certainly did not need Weasleys to heal them.

While Draco was introspecting on the high class of his name, Ginny was introspecting on the fact that she was a highly claustrophobic person and was not adapting well to being smooshed between a stone wall and a Slytherin. It seemed clichéd to admit, but ever since the Chamber of Secrets, she had not been a fan of small spaces. Of course, if it had been Ron she was smothered against, or even Harry or Hermione, it wouldn't bother her so. Unfortunately, the fact that this was _Draco Malfoy_ of all people filled her with anxiety.

"I…" she started, but Draco silenced her with a sharp glare. Evidently he was placing his escape from Filch above her impending inability to breathe. But stubborn as she was, she didn't care. "I can't breathe," Ginny whispered, and immediately began hyperventilating.

Draco frowned as the tiny Gryffindor's eyes filled with fear and she started gasping quietly. "Bloody hell, you'll get us caught," he hissed, but it had no effect. She looked at him helplessly and continued making a racket, so he pulled her into his chest to muffle the sound.

"Mmph," Ginny protested, objecting to the sudden shrinking of her personal breathing space. She pushed against his chest with her hands and tried to back away, but the selfish git was stronger than she'd imagined and he held her fast. She could hear Mrs. Norris and Filch coming closer, and that only added to her anxiety, thus intensifying the hyperventilating.

"Shut up, or they'll hear us," Draco snapped in a whisper, but Ginny refused to comply. He sighed in frustration – he was _not_ going to get a detention just because the bloody girl couldn't control herself, so he did the only thing he could think of. She was having trouble breathing, yes? Well, he'd take away that problem.

Ginny looked up at Draco just in time to see his lips coming towards her. She gasped in shock but was cut off by his mouth covering hers in what could only be described as one hell of a snog. She tried to push him away, but he held her fast and only when she heard Filch stomping past did she understand what he was doing and relax slightly into his arms.

The blonde Slytherin felt the change the instant the fiery Gryffindor stopped fighting him, and it was magnificent. Suddenly, instead of two enemies trying not to get detention, they were two bloody hormonal teenagers lost in their own world.

Filtch's footsteps faded down the hall and Draco abruptly pulled away. Ginny bit her cheek to keep a disappointed sigh from escaping. He was looking at her in horror and awe, and Ginny shoved the hurt aside and got angry instead. If that bastard thought he could play with her like that, he had another thing coming.

"Disappointing, Malfoy," she spat, glaring at him. "I would have thought a boy with your upbringing would have been taught better."

"Bloody hell, Wealey," Draco said in wonder, ignoring her scathing comment. "Where did you learn to snog like that?"

"Um," Ginny replied intelligently, confused. He had thrown off her anger entirely with one comment, something that had never happened to her before. "What?"

"That was the most incredible…"

"Malfoy," Ginny interupted, "you hate me."

Draco blinked himself out of his stupor and stared at her, trying to tear his focus from her lips to her words.

"We're enemies," she continued, as if he was an idiot. But as she watched him staring dumbly at her, instead of congratulating herself for rendering him speechless, she noticed that one piece of silver hair fell across his forehead in the most attractive way. Immediately she cursed herself and reminded herself that she had abandoned her foolish romantic notions at the same time she had abandoned her foolish infatuation with Harry. But Malfoy was right. That was the most incredible…

"Weasley," Draco said, with intense seriousness. "I am bloody serious. We need to do that again. Enemies or not."

Ginny frowned at him, trying to decide if he actually _was _being serious or not. "Did you get knocked on the head?" she asked.

"What? Can't a bloke enjoy a magnificent snog every once in a while without having ulterior motives?"

Ah, so that was the thing, Ginny realized. This wasn't a snog-then-start-dating thing, this was a snog-and-then-snog-again thing. It wasn't the fairy-tale romance she'd been expecting, but then, with Malfoy, what else do you get? Maybe she could snog him into commitment, if that was even what she wanted when they were done.

"See you tomorrow, Malfoy," she smirked, then sauntered off into the moonlit-hall, her pale nightshirt making Malfoy swallow hard.

"Bloody Gryffindors," he muttered, looking forward to tomorrow.


End file.
